POWDER AND DUST

i watch transparent moths and
night creatures attracted to the light
on the inside of my window
as i sit at my desk and write
out my pain onto forgiving paper
the pen leaks the words that
can never adequately explain
what it is i try to say
and i sip at the warm red wine
that dulls indecison and anger at myself
for turning out to be nothing more
than flawed human material
just like everyone else
the faint but rhythmic tapping by
tiny creatures made of powder and dust
brings me back to watch
as they beat themselves to death
against the glass for a chance to touch
the brightness just outside their reach

By Nancy Sirianni


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